Well first, I have to say thank you to ohvalerievalerie.*tumblr.*com/post/56886511894/bri ttana-sirens-x (remove *) for putting together a really cool poster for Sirens. I was totally blown away. It even has the yellow beanie. So check out her blog on tumblr if you want to see that. It's under her stuff or you can check my blog under the "tags" and "Sirens" to find it. She does some amazing posters for the fandom. Also thank you to the anon who sent me a review to tell me about it! :D
Next, big big thank you to my gf for editing this chapter. I think I rewrote this chapter about 5 times.
Note for the chapter, I started writing LT:P-EYE during season 3 and ended/started Sirens right before the end of season 3. That is where the deviation from canon begins.
I spilt the chapter because it was getting far too large. So that means I already have a good chunk of chapter 30 written and since I'm not working on any side projects, hopefully I can finish the next one quickly. Thanks for your patience!
Now, presenting the New Directions in…
Sirens
Chapter 29
"As former, but still honorary, captain of the glee club, I would like to welcome everyone back to the first annual New Directions reunion party!" Rachel stood in front choir room. There were some things that were different, but not everything had changed. In fact, they were all relatively the same kids they were when they left high school. Granted, some of them had made bigger moves than others. "I know that we've all gone our separate ways and for some of us the transition has been harder." Everyone tried not to look at Finn, everyone except for Santana who quirked an eyebrow at the former captain of the football team with brazen scrutiny. Finn and Rachel's break-up had been especially taxing – for everyone. And everyone knew that Finn had been at McKinley for a few hours already crying to Mr. Schuester about Rachel, life, but mostly Rachel. "But I would like to thank you all for being mature adults and for recognizing that the most important steps we take are always forward, but that it's still beneficial to remember where we came from."
Santana was licking her lips and giving the eye to Brittany. Quinn insisted on being seated the furthest away from Finchel's bullshit and therefore elected to sit between the two lovers. Only now did she realize she made a terrible mistake. How could they still be doing it like bunnies after living together for an entire year in New York? Quinn almost groaned out loud.
"Would you stop that?" Quinn hissed at Santana.
"What?" Santana off-handedly asked, but her dark eyes were eyeing up Brittany's choice of attire for the night. As if Brittany could read her partner's mind, she shifted ever so slightly in the old choir room chair. The material of Brittany's skirt was riding up her milky white thighs. Fuck. Santana's tongue rimmed the outside of her plush lips. Brittany's bright blue eyes were giving Rachel their utmost attention, which never happened, so Santana knew the blonde was fully aware of what she was doing to her girlfriend. Santana twisted her own legs together. Her core was burning and she knew her cheeks were flushed. A wicked smile played on Brittany's lips. Santana's eyes were so focused on how sexy Brittany's legs were when they crossed each other and rubbed together, she didn't notice Quinn's temper growing.
A finger snapped at the bottom of her chin and her mouth instinctively closed. She didn't even know it had been open. Startled, Santana's eyes met Quinn's fiery, judgmental stare.
"Stop drooling, Santana, and keep your leering to a minimum." Quinn slapped her jean clad thigh. The sting felt good in contrast to whatever Brittany was doing to her. "Haven't you two gotten bored of each other yet?"
"Mmm?" Brittany "casually" leaned back and posed for the two of them. She pushed her chest out and pretended to be playing with an invisible string on her shirt. Santana's eyes drifted back to her girlfriend. Trimmed, but polished nails were sliding in and out of her girlfriend's collared shirt. Every so often, her nail would catch the collar and drag the material down to further reveal more skin. Santana's brain fizzled out. "What's that Q? Bored of what? Your girlfriend up there and her schedule? I thought once we graduated, I wouldn't have to worry about a schedule." Brittany teased.
"She's not my girlfriend." Quinn glowered.
Had Santana not been watching Brittany's other hand drop between her legs, she would have enjoyed her girlfriend riling up the former head cheerio. But Santana was far too distracted. Brittany's pointer and middle fingers pushed together and were "innocently" running up her inner thighs.
"I was just saying…she's single now. Could be a big opportunity for you…" Brittany made sure to spend extra time on every word. Her blue eyes were sparkling as she slowly worked her girl into a sexual frenzy. In the car, Santana decided they would be mature adults and behave themselves at the reunion so they wouldn't have to participate in any extra bonding activities.
But Brittany had other plans.
She wanted to be naughty in the janitor's closet.
"Stop trying to get me into these weird things you're all doing in the city. Rachel and I are just friends."
"What weird things?" Brittany voiced the question with innocence even as her inappropriate fingers were now squeezing between her thighs and shuffling the material of her skirt higher and higher up. Santana opened her mouth just a little more. A puff of hot air exited her nose, but no intelligent words were added to the conversation. "How many times have you taken the train to visit her? That's quite a trip for a booty call."
"Brittany! It's not like that!" Quinn forgot they were supposed to be paying attention to Rachel.
Everyone was now looking at the three former cheerios in the back.
"Do you three have anything to contribute to the list of safe and responsible games that we are currently putting together for our activities tonight?" Rachel asked with pursed lips and eyes that were questioning Quinn's out of line behavior.
"Berry…" Santana distractedly said without a hint of her usual snark. Her eyes were still firmly on Brittany's legs.
"Yes, Santana?" Rachel asked with a questioning voice. Santana wasn't attacking her or putting down her ideas. This was new and unfamiliar territory.
"Those are some-um-good-" Brittany crossed and uncrossed her legs. For a second, Santana lost sight of the blonde's fingers. When they popped back into view, Santana could have sworn they were wet. Santana's body was flush and her chest was rising and falling at a faster rate. "-fuck-very good-very good ideas."
Now everyone was noticing the strange way Santana's eyes were intensely focused, but not on the front of the room.
"Oh for the love of-" Kurt groaned and rolled his eyes so viciously, the entire group thought they would have rolled out of his head.
"Yo. Tan." Puck smacked her other leg and gave her a playful push.
"Ow!" Santana savagely turned on him. "What!?"
"Your boner's showing. Lock that shit up."
Santana glanced up and for the first time realized that she was the center of attention. "Shit."
"I have a keg in the back of my truck. My brother is coming around with some of the high school kids that joined glee this year and Mr. Schue said we could do whatever we wanted because no one is supposed to be in the building all weekend." The smirk on Puck's face was growing. "I say we party it up!"
"Noah, I appreciate your participation in the group exercise, but I also think we should practice a modicum of caution when it comes to choosing our activities for the night."
"I could definitely use a drink." Mercedes chimed in. A few other people added their agreement with Puckerman's idea.
"Fine!" Rachel waved her arms around to signal that she once again had the floor for speaking. "We can try Puck's plan, but I'm also bringing in the band and setting up the mics because I know without a doubt that I am the only one who has been doing their voice exercises for maintaining optimum pitch and I want to see how you are all fairing."
"It's a competition then!" Kurt quickly said.
"I didn't say competition…"
"But you implied it and don't back out now that I'm in it! Because you know I've been more than practicing my oral exercises to get into NYADA."
"Judging by what I walked into the other night…you were definitely doing something oral." Santana made a little jab.
"Santana!" Kurt exclaimed.
There was an obnoxious air suck from the front of the room that could have been a gasp. Rachel's face was aghast and horrified at the oversharing of information.
Finn bellowed. "Hey! That's my brother!"
"Oh now you remember we're brothers? When was the last time you came to visit? I don't care that she's my flatmate, I'm your brother. You should at least try to see me."
Rachel was beaming and trying to butt in. "Gentleman, I enjoy your brotherly sparing over my affections and I liken it to Arcite and Palamon…well…a very gay Palamon, which if you think about it, isn't that far off from the original since he was in the House of Love with Venus as his goddess. And Finn as Arcite would be fitting since he did join the army very briefly and shot himself in the leg. It wasn't exactly a fatal blow from falling from a horse, but still the poetry and symmetry is just enough to make a comparison. Mostly, I do admire the way you are both figh-"
"Rachel! We've discussed this before! Their fighting has nothing to do with you. And you can't keep inserting yourself into their relationship. You're out of it now. Remember?" The Yale student was moving rapidly down to the front of the room to cut off any more of Rachel's monologue. Her gentle chides pulled the diva back from the brink of a total soliloquy. Quinn moved closer and was patting Rachel's shoulder and pulling her away from center stage. Rachel seemed to simmer down at Quinn's touch.
"Girlfriends! See I called it!" Britt yelled out in vindicated excitement. She was pointing at Quinn and Rachel.
Britt had forgotten about the state of sexual frustration she had inflicted upon her girlfriend. Santana's body was crouched over the seat next to her. Unsuspecting, Brittany turned right into her lover's lips as they found her neck. Brittany didn't even bother to cover up the moan that escaped her lips. Suddenly Santana was straddling the blonde and pulling at her hair. "She's definitely dating GayBerry. Fuck. I love it when you're right, Britt Britt. It always turns me on."
"Yeah?" Brittany rolled her head back as Santana kept sucking on her neck.
The door to the choir room burst open and a bunch of younger kids came through with a keg, cups, and other party essentials.
"You're so hot." Santana was moaning into Brittany's neck.
"Oh Hell No!" Mercedes yanked the back of Santana's shirt and pulled her off. "Are you two in heat? Get off of her!"
"But it's my turn to sing!" Blaine had already confiscated the microphone.
"It's always your turn to sing." Tina was shooing him from the front and handed the microphone right to Rachel. "Kids still in high school sing last. Sit down."
"Yeah! Sit down Blaine Warbler!" Brittany instigated from the back row.
Mercedes sat with a sulking Santana on one side and a smirking Brittany on the other.
"I would like to kick off the first annual New Direction Reunion with my favorite classic from our extensive performance catalog. I welcome all in the audience to join me in singing Journey's hit and our first song as a group…" She paused for an effect. "Don't Stop Believing."
"Boo!"
"Anything but Journey!"
"I thought Mr. Schue wasn't choosing any songs!"
"But-" Rachel was trying to gain control of the choir room once again. By the befuddled look on her face, she couldn't fathom a reason why her song choice would cause such mutiny. It was rather entertaining.
"Come here you two. Stop getting it on in the back and let's show these fools how the Trouble-Tones do." Mercedes pulled both Santana and Brittany up from their seats and dragged them down to the floor. By the time a song and a performer for the first set were chosen – it happened to be Rachel – everyone was already tipsy and they had an ipod plugged in. Laughter erupted from around the choir room and the new New Directions were mingling with the original New Directions. It didn't take long before they were exchanging Sue Sylvester war stories, regional woes, and recapping all of the ridiculous rap songs Mr. Schue had performed over the years.
That first reunion had been, without a doubt, a success.
They had been a family. A distant, but loving, family.
"Why did I agree to come again?" Britt frowned as they passed another exit on the turnpike. She couldn't believe where they were heading.
"I don't know, Britt…Maybe a sense of duty, honor, love…family…" Noah tossed the word out knowing that it might trigger a reaction, but he did so without caring. They had already gotten into three fights since they started their trip and only one of them had been about the radio. He was past the point of worrying about Brittany's sensitivities. "It's about time you came back to Lima. It's not like you don't have a place to go. You're staying at your sister's house. When was the last time you did that?
"Sure…one of those reasons…" Brittany muttered. The rest of it didn't matter. Allie showed up in New York when she needed to and they still talked whenever Britt was in the mood. She exhaled into the window. The heat of her breath fogged the surface for a moment. She started to trace familiar curves into the window.
She could feel Santana doing it again. The thing. The thing they knew not to talk about; the thing that had become a secret; the thing that Brittany desperately ached for; the thing that Santana would take away if they ever mentioned it.
It was their thing.
It was the best thing that had ever been Brittany's.
It was better than rainy days or hide and go seek in the school after hours. It was better than cancelled cheerleading practice and it was better than booty camp for glee club. It was better than when her sister would pick her up after school. It was better than Breadsticks or going out with the football team. It was better than sitting in Artie's lap and rolling down the hall. It was better than spending time cheesing it up with Lord Tubbington – not that she would ever tell him. It was better than anything Brittany had ever done or experienced because she knew deep in her bones, down to the very center of her core that the thing was hers. It would always be hers and it belonged to no one else. It couldn't belong to anyone else because it could only be shared between the two of them.
But she couldn't talk about it.
Instead, she shut her eyes tighter and wanted nothing more than for Santana to keep touching her. It was the reason Brittany wore cut-offs to bed or tank tops with no pants. She wanted to give Santana as much skin – as much opportunity to touch as possible. When they first started to sleep together in the same bed, Santana kept a pillow between them to make sure they had their own space, but now…
Now she was doing that thing again.
Brittany's skin was effervescent; she felt light like she was floating.
It was the best thing that would ever be Brittany's.
Santana's finger sloped once more against Brittany's exposed bicep. The shape curved along toned muscles and trailed with labor.
Labor.
Because, Brittany was discovering, the best thing, the thing that made her feel most complete, most whole, most beautiful inside and out, which was the easiest thing for her to fall into, was also the hardest thing for Santana.
The best kind of thing was love. And laboring in love was so intoxicating that Brittany didn't mind not talking about it because she knew it belonged to her. Santana's love would always belong to her because every time Santana completed the same shape over and over again on her arm or her back or her leg or the back of her palm or sometimes, when Santana was feeling brave enough, on her inner thigh, she was silently saying that Brittany would be the best thing that ever was hers too.
Her heart was racing as Santana traced the slope once again.
Brittany wanted to reaffirm everything Santana was telling her and more. She couldn't hold it in any longer. She turned in her bed. It caught Santana off-guard. Dark eyes bulged with fear in the dark. She thought Brittany had been asleep. But the blonde just smiled. Her finger stretched in the space between them and slowly, without the laboring strokes Santana had been practicing, Brittany openly traced the beginning of the same curve right above Santana's rapidly beating heart.
The glass was cool to touch, but where Santana had pressed her nose to the pane, it retained residual heat from her steady breathing. Her finger slid down the glass in the last seconds the fog remained on the window. It curved and connected to a point. She stared at it even as the fog dissipated and the window appeared clear again.
The plane was bouncing up and down as it hit the runway. She leaned back in her seat and tried to not think about memories that refused to go away. But it was difficult. She remembered the first time Brittany had openly reciprocated all the feelings Santana had been trying to repress. She remembered how loudly LT had been snoring in the corner of the bedroom, the intensity of the light from beyond the shades, the color of Brittany's bedspread, and how earnest Brittany's blue eyes had been.
"First time back?"
"What?" Santana hadn't been expecting to talk to anyone. She barely answered the steward when he asked if she wanted a drink.
"Is it your first time back?" The older woman asked softly. Her eyes were gazing out the window as the plane glided into the correct traffic lane. It would still be another twenty minutes before they could depart from the plane. "Back home?"
"What?" She definitely wasn't in the mood to talk, especially not to some older woman about coming home. It was far too cliché. Besides…Lima hadn't been home since Brittany packed all of her bags, belongings, and that fat cat into Santana's car. "Yeah. How did you know?"
"It's just something in your eyes." The older woman said and then went back to her book. "It'll be okay. It almost always is."
It was hard to reign in her anger at the disturbance. What the fuck? She didn't ask for the woman to make a comment or for comfort. Santana didn't want to come home. She wasn't here to see her parents. She wasn't here to apologize for her absence. She was here for…
…
…
…
Santana glanced down to her carryon bag. Somehow, even with her careful placement and folds, yellow strands were peeking and pushing through the closed zipper. This time she didn't even bother to unzip and redo the folding and shove it further down the bag. She was resigned to the knowledge that no matter how hard she tried to contain the unraveling knitting or how far she shoved it down, the beanie would do what it wanted. It would just keep surfacing.
Figures.
Santana rolled her eyes, but her fingers danced along the zipper. The fuzzy strands felt strange against the cold metal. It was just like Brittany. The beanie had a way of fitting where it shouldn't belong.
The passengers in the plane were starting to stand and collect their belongings. They were beginning the long and slow shuffle to the exit. Santana lingered. Her fingers were running over the zipper again. The woman who had been sitting next to her for the flight gathered her own things and started for the exit.
Santana turned back to the window. She held her breath, fearful that the shape would be gone. But as the hot air fogged the pane, it revealed a faint, but visible heart. She gripped the bag tighter and finally stood up. She could do this.
Her heels clicked as she walked through the relatively empty plane. A few minutes she was exiting into the general lobby area.
Her phone was blowing up after she turned it back on. Fourteen missed calls from California, three from Tim, five texts from Noah, and one missed call from Terry. Santana rolled her eyes again. She didn't want to deal with anyone, especially nothing personal. Everyone would have to deal with their problems by themselves.
"Santana?"
A very familiar voice rocked Santana right out of her autopilot walk through the airport. She whipped her head up in confusion. "Mom? Dad?"
She couldn't believe they had taken time out of their lives to listen to her message on their voice mail when she mentioned when she'd be arriving in Lima. But they were standing right there. Her mother was smiling and her father wore his usual stern expression.
"Santana, I've told you a thousand times this summer that you are going to get into the program where your father completed his degree and move right into the med school. He's been in contact with the dean of admissions and they have a spot open for you. You have the grades, the extra-curriculars and you're a very pretty girl. I don't see why you have to follow your girlfriend to the middle of that terrible city for a liberal arts degree!"
Santana was past the point of caring. She was past the point of caring when her father was roaring about her delinquent behavior and lack of respect for her future. She was past the point of caring when her mother tried to block her in the driveway to prevent her departure. She was past the point of caring when her mother proceeded to follow her all the way to Brittany's house.
And she was definitely past the point of caring right now.
The front door opened. Brittany was standing there with a backpack, two suitcases, and that fat cat in her arms. Nothing made Santana's heart flutter the way Brittany's smile did.
Britt gave her a small wave. Santana completely forgot about her mother's presence.
"Hi, Mrs. Lopez!" Brittany bounced down the stairs of her house. LT was not looking too pleased.
"Yes, hello, Brittany." Santana's mother dismissed the girl almost instantly with the wave of her hand.
"Britt!" An older blonde haired beauty came busting out of the house. "Don't you dare forget to call me or I will drive to New York and drag you back here. With or without Santana."
"I'll miss you too, Allie." Santana teased Britt's older sister. They had developed an interesting relationship over the past four years. Allie had taken over as Brittany's guardian after their parents passed away and had been especially guarded toward her sister's relationship with other cheerleader. It wasn't until Santana came out and started to actually date Brittany that Allie warmed up to Santana. Ever since then, they had a playful and nurturing relationship. Allie never said no to Santana spending the night or going out with Brittany. She trusted Santana. She knew Santana loved her sister more than anything. They even teamed up once during a case for LT: P-EYE.
In a lot of ways, Allie was more family than her own parents.
"You better take care of her, Santana, or I will find you."
"It'll be okay." Brittany turned around and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be the one looking out for Santana."
"Make sure she doesn't open that big mouth of hers too much, Britt. You know how she's all bark and no bite." Allie teased right back and gave her sister the biggest hug. "The trust fund from mom and dad is there for you to get you started or for whatever you need. There's more than enough money there, Britt Britt. Make sure you use it, okay?"
"Don't worry, Allie, we're going to use it."
"Santana…" Her mother was trying to insert herself back into the conversation. "Just come home. Your father will have calmed down by now. We can talk about your decision and decide if it's the best course of action for everyone."
Brittany hopped down the stairs and landed in Santana's outstretched arms. It wasn't long before their lips found each other and Brittany was pushing Santana's back into the side of her car. Santana's pony tail whipped in the wind. LT crawled out from between their embrace and was digging his claws into the roof of the vehicle. Distracted, Santana lazily batted at the feline until he avoided her blind arm swings and landed on the driveway. He was hissing at his owner's girlfriend.
"Get a room!" Allie called out.
Santana flipped her the bird.
"Better yet…" Allie was smirking. "Get an apartment, a job, and get out of here! I'm getting sick of the amount of PDA I have to endure."
From behind Brittany's head, Santana flipped her off with a second bird. Her middle fingers waved defiantly behind Brittany's back. She knew Allie would miss them.
When they finally disengaged, Santana realized her mother was crying. Guilt twisted her insides, but she was resolute on her decision. Besides, she knew her parents well enough to know this desperate love from her mother would only last as long as Santana defied them. It would soon move onto a cruise to the islands or a private jet trip to Europe for a three month tour of a wine country.
Santana took a step forward. "Mom…I know this isn't what you want for me and I have no idea what I want to do or who I want to be. I could be a doctor eventually. I don't know. But…" She looked back at Brittany as she was loading the car. "I just know I want to be with her. I know it's the only place where I am going to find myself. I love her, mom. I'm sorry you can't see that."
A few minutes later they were waving bye to her mother, Allie, and Lima. It would be the last time they came back to Ohio until Rachel's reunion party. Even for the reunion party, they returned only under duress. Rachel threatened Santana with an "indefinite cessation of friendship" to which Santana said "Good!" but then immediately mailed her the RSVP card in the mail. Brittany teased her for being so whipped to Berry's wishes.
"It was sooo nice to see you again. No really, it reminded me of all the reasons I come back so often to visit."
A pause.
"No, shit, I never come back. It was sarcasm." Santana slammed the door to her rental car and was seriously contemplating how much she would regret just throwing her phone into the brush. "No. I will not be staying at the house tonight or tomorrow or ever. Thank you. Love you both too. And no, I am not going to church with you on Sunday."
She clicked the top of the phone to shut off her mother's questions and her father's derision from across the line. It took all of two hours at the Lopez house before she was back at the only place that ever felt like home when she lived in Lima.
But now that she wasn't fighting with her parents, Santana felt sheepish standing in the Pierce driveway. She hadn't talked to Allie since she left New York. The clicking of her heels felt invasive. Her stomach was in knots. Maybe she should have just called a hotel and booked a room for the night. As she approached the door, she kept wondering why she didn't just do that. She could easily turn around and have a room, a tv, a shower, and no one would know that she wasn't staying with her parents. Coming here had been instinctive. She didn't even realize where she started driving until she was turning down the block.
Santana shook out her hands to relieve the nerves that were building inside of her.
Hotel. There were two downtown. She wouldn't have to worry about a car and when this whole thing was over she could just crash. No cab. No mess. No worries.
Even as she weighed the possibility, her balled fist hovered over the frame of the door. She took a deep breath. Why did she feel so nervous? This wasn't high school. This wasn't the first time she had knocked on Brittany's door to ask if she wanted to catch a movie. This wasn't like the time when Santana had purposely gone out on a date with Puckerman after she kissed Brittany beneath the bleachers and then came back at 2am to Britt's house. And this certainly wasn't the time Santana spent forty minutes pacing and working up the courage to finally ask Brittany to go out on a date with her – a real date – to Breadsticks.
The door started to unlock before Santana ever worked up the courage to knock. A tall blonde stood defiant behind the screen door. Her eyes were darker than Brittany's and her bone structure wasn't as fine, but they were clearly sisters.
"What are you doing here, Santana?"
"I-um-"
"Who are you again?"
"I'm-I-"
"Speak up already I just got off a ten hour shift. I don't need any girl scout cookies or whatever you're selling."
"No-" Santana stuttered again. She never got tongue-tied. She always knew what she wanted. Except now. Now she stood stammering and feeling like an idiot. Why did she ever think this was a good idea? She should have listened to Quinn and just gone to the movies without making any pit stops. Quinn said it would be better to avoid the long blonde haired girl. She would only bring them down the social ladder. Quinn said over and over again how she was good, but weird. The tall blonde would bring them more trouble than she was worth. But Quinn hadn't been there in the locker room. She hadn't been there when Santana closed her locker and those bright blues had been staring right at her. Santana had laughed and agreed with Quinn. Then immediately asked around to find out where Brittany lived. "I-um-"
"What?" The woman was asking in agitation.
"Santana, what are you doing here?" Allie asked again. She wasn't budging on the door.
God, she felt like she was sixteen all over again. Her hands gripped her bags just a little tighter. "Allie…I'm sorry…"
"Sorry?" Allie scoffed and started to close the door. "You were supposed to watch her. I trusted you with her. I trusted you, Santana. Why would you even come back here? You're not welcome here, not anymore. You lost that privilege a long time ago."
"Nevermind. I-I- have the wrong house."
"Allie, I didn't know what else to do back then…" Santana had not been expecting this, but in hindsight, she should have. Dealing with her parents had been far too distracting to think of the consequences of returning to the Pierce household.
"You could have called me. You could have told me there was something wrong." Allie continued closing the door. Santana almost felt relieved. The quicker the door closed, the faster she could forget how foolish she had been.
A hotel. She would pay for a room. Fuck. She felt so mortified that she contemplated buying another plane ticket and heading back to New York. Allie had every right.
Bright blue eyes peeked around the corner of the door frame. Brittany was already taller than her sister. "You're on the cheerleading squad, right?"
"Yeah." Those blue eyes instantly quelled Santana's stammering. She forgot about the woman and the questions and just smiled back. She didn't know what it was about Brittany, but Santana liked to smile around her. "I'm-"
"Santana." Brittany interjected with a smile of her own. "I remember when coach announced your name at the end of tryouts today." Then her smile faded. "Did I not make it or something? I thought I did when she said my name."
"No. You definitely made it." Santana instantly reassured her. "You were probably the best one of all the freshman."
Santana couldn't believe she said that out loud. She silently prayed that it would never get back to Quinn.
"You were pretty good yourself."
Blushing, Santana ducked her head. What was wrong with her? She never acted like this. She visibly tried to shrug the feeling away. "Look, Brittany, as a way of celebrating, the freshman football squad and the new cheerleaders were going to the movies. You wanna come?"
Brittany was already nodding her head and looking up to the woman who had been silently observing the interaction. Her eyes narrowed. They shifted between Santana and Brittany as if reading between the lines. Santana squirmed at the scrutiny. It felt much deeper than when a teacher or her parents would look at her like that.
"Can I go, Allie?"
"Don't stay out too late, Britt. And don't go anywhere by yourself."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets back at a good time."
"I'm sure you will. You better take care of her."
"I don't know why I came here. I'm sorry, Allie. I'm sorry for everything." Santana readjusted the straps of her bags and turned away from the door.
"Don't come back." Allie closed the door.
She didn't know what hurt more – Allie's rejection or realizing that she really didn't have a home in Lima anymore.
She didn't have a home anywhere.
The door slammed shut. Santana turned around. Hotel. She would check into the closest one. It didn't matter how shady it looked. She just needed to get away from everything – her parents, Allie, Brittany. She had been an idiot to come back here. Fucking Puckerman. What was she thinking coming back to Lima? She glanced back once. The door remained firmly shut. Lights were on in the upstairs rooms. For a brief moment, she wondered where Puck was staying. A familiar car on the street answered that question.
She didn't know what she had been thinking.
Thirty minutes later, Santana was checking into a hotel room not that far away from the meeting place.
Whatever.
She was here for Rachel and to fulfill Quinn's ridiculous need to continue this tradition. It was just one night. One night with everyone. Would they all act like Allie? It was definitely a mistake to come back. She glanced to her phone. Terry's name had popped up a second and a third time since she arrived.
Did you arrive safely?
Are you okay?
Both were harmless enough. Both invited more conversation. Both required the same answer. Yes, thanks, Terr.
It only took a few seconds before her phone buzzed in response. Want to talk?
Yes. She did. She wanted to talk. She wanted to leave Lima. She wanted to not be staying at a hotel room by herself. Most of all, she wanted to talk, just not to Terry.
She scrolled through her contacts. The reason she was even here was because Puck told her Brittany would make an appearance. Before she could second guess herself, Santana hit the call button.
The phone clicked and Brittany's clear voice answered. "Hey."
"Hey."
There was a momentary pause, but it wasn't awkward. In fact, it was anything but. They had both been thinking about each other a lot.
"So Puck convinced you to come back too?" Britt asked and Santana could practically hear her smile cock to the side. For a moment, Santana's fingers grazed over yellow knitting she forgot was in her hands.
"Well not really Puck…"
Another pause. She could now see the lights in Britt's eyes as her smile grew wider.
"Oh yeah? So what? Quinn finally used some of her charm to get you to come out?" Brittany was teasing now and Santana felt herself relaxing for first time since she arrived in Lima.
"Quinn definitely wouldn't be enough to get me back here. She's not the right blonde…"
"But the right blonde would be enough?" The way her words twisted through the phone, Santana imagined the way Britt's eyes always sparkled when she was playing a game.
"That's yet to be proven…" Santana leaned back into the pillow of the hotel room.
They were dancing.
It didn't have the same steps as the one in the ballroom or the same music, but their footwork remained the same.
One Two Three
One Two Three
"What are you wearing to this thing tonight?" Santana asked, but quickly added. "Let me guess…slacks, a button up, and a tie?"
Britt's laugh was infectious. But then her tone switched. In a completely serious, but joking voice, she stated. "I like to be consistent. I'm not one for surprising people."
"Right. I'll remember that for the next time I'm not surprised by you." Santana was still laughing. Everything about Brittany was surprising. The most unsurprising part of her person was her consistency to be unexpected.
"You're still going to this thing right, Santana?" Britt finally asked as her laughter died down.
"Are you still going?"
She could almost hear the tip of the Lady Killer hat and see the playful confidence she always displayed. "Only if you are…"
Santana couldn't ignore the way her heart fluttered. "So I'll see you soon."
"Count on it."
The phone clicked and Santana set it back down on the bed. She started to unpack and get ready for the bar. She didn't even notice she was smiling until she finally looked into the mirror to do her make-up.
"You're lucky she didn't take one of those needle things and inject it into your eye." Brittany teased her best friend.
"What? Needle thing?" Puck was still rubbing at his cheek. It was red and hurt more than his leg. He was hobbling with crutches through the entrance of the bar. "In my eye?" The horrified quality in his voice allayed the fears Brittany's sister invoked in him.
"Yeah, she's vicious with that needle."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Puck hobbled through the bar toward the bar counter. It was a dive central to the city and not that far from McKinley.
"I didn't think you'd make a pass at my sister."
"I didn't make so much a pass as I told her that the doctor said only a registered nurse should massage the area." His smirk revealed that his words had been anything but innocent.
"Jackass." Britt flipped some cash in the air and waited for someone to take it.
"You're really going to give me money?" The voice caught both of them off guard.
"Finn?" Puck was smirking. "Holy shit. Bro. How are you?"
Their hands clasped one another and they were laughing and hugging over the bar. Finn caught sight of Puck's extra hardware and grimaced. "Quinn said you were coming injured, but I thought it was just a figure of speech. Let me come to you!"
Finn exited the bar area and stood back so he could get a better look at Puck's condition. Suddenly he turned around and gave Brittany a big hug. He leaned in close. "I'm really happy you're here, Britt. We've missed you."
Britt nodded and tried to hug him back, but Finn had never been a reason to come back to Lima. They had never really gotten along. Finn must not have felt the love because he was back to talking to Puck. They were talking about the latest acquisitions for the Blue Jackets and football stats. Britt sat back down at the bar and finally ordered her drink.
"Hey, Mercedes! Artie!" Finn shouted at them. "We're over here."
Santana had waited as long as she possibly could at the hotel. The minutes ticked by, but no matter how much time passed, it didn't seem like enough. She had never been to this particular bar in Lima, but she wasn't surprised. There were quite a few watering holes and all of them were shitty. Luckily, this one was only two blocks away from her hotel so she was able to walk the way. Some guys held the door open for her and Santana wordlessly thanked them. It was just a normal bar. It didn't hold the same quality as the choir room or the charm of Rachel's basement.
Nothing special, except the sound of laughter.
Her heels stilled. She watched from behind a low wall as Mercedes was laughing at something Tina was saying. Puck and Finn were in an argument about something sports related; their hands were talking more excitedly than their voices. Quinn was gathering stacks of papers and frowning to no one in particular.
And Brittany…
Holy fuck.
Santana's pulse quickened. Her eyes instantly dropped to her creamy white legs crossed and uncrossed underneath the table. She wore a black dress that cut out in random places where her skin brazenly contrasted against the dark material. She wore her hair down around her shoulders and her eyes had a smoky quality from the effect of her makeup. A cigarette dangled loosely from her fingers.
Slacks and a tie? The last time Britt had dressed even remotely similar was their night at Reckloose. But this…this was purposely provocative. She wanted attention. Her torso twisted in the chair to address someone else. Santana couldn't believe how the dress outlined every muscle of her obliques when she turned or how defined her hips were when shifted in the seat.
Like always, Brittany managed to do the unexpected in the most attractive ways. Santana couldn't keep from staring.
She looked stunning.
A waitress approached the table. Santana watched as Britt perked up and talked to the woman for a few seconds.
Santana didn't want to watch Brittany flirting with yet another woman. She remembered how easily the blonde had talked to Jenny at the commendation ceremony. Santana glanced down and picked up the nearest flyer. It was for an open mic night at the bar. She flipped through the names on the flyer and the times. Anything to keep her distracted. Even as she "read" the times and reasons why to participate in open mic night, her eyes kept peering over the flyer to watch Brittany's smile, her laugh, the way her eyes lit up at every question, and her fingers tickled the edge of the beer glass in her hand.
Distracted, she had no idea someone was trying to get her attention. "Santana?"
She popped the flyer into her purse and turned around quickly. "Sam?"
"Hey! I never thought I'd see you in Lima again." Sam was giving her a great bear hug. "You were always too good for this town."
That was all she needed. She thought for sure they would have kicked her right out, but Sam was giving her another hug. "I let Puckerman convince me that a weekend back home would be good for me."
"Since when do you listen to Puck?"
"Never. I have no idea what possessed me." Santana smiled. "It's nice to see you too, Trouty."
"Come on. Everyone's gonna want to see you." Santana allowed herself to be led into the bar.
"Santana Lopez." Mercedes was shaking her head. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here without ever visiting me in LA."
Santana froze.
"Come here!" Mercedes pulled her into the biggest hug. Soon there were arms and hands touching and welcoming her back. Santana didn't even know who was touching her by the time she was able to poke her head out for some air. Brittany was waiting and sitting a few feet away with a beer and a cigarette still in her fingers. The smile on her face looked familiar. Santana smiled back. But Mercedes was hugging her even harder and Santana reciprocated the love.
"I have no idea if anyone else is coming, but we can at least start." Quinn was standing in front of the group. Santana hadn't noticed, but they were close to a stage in the back of the bar. The open mic flyer in her purse was beginning to make sense. Mercedes pulled up a seat for Santana to sit. When she glanced over to Britt again, she realized the reason why the smile looked so familiar. It was the same smile Santana imagined Britt had been wearing during their phone conversation a few hours ago. "I didn't really plan anything special and I don't do speeches so I just want to say it's nice to see all of you here. I'm actually surprised at the turn out and I know that Rachel would have been pleased to see everyone here making an effort."
Mercedes touched Santana's knee with a smile that was meant to comfort. It felt so surreal. Santana couldn't believe she was sitting in a bar with all of them.
"So if everyone could raise their glasses –" She waited. Mercedes slid a glass of beer to Santana. "This is to friendship, family, and Rachel."
Everyone said something different before they clinked their glasses together. Santana glanced over to Brittany. Britt raised her glass silently to Santana with a soft smile. She didn't share the moment with anyone else. Santana barely even recognized the tiny taps of glass on glass in her hand. Santana tried to ignore the way her body was heating up. It only took a single glance from Brittany to set her skin aflame. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. A voice broke their eye contact.
"Alright, enough of this sad stuff. We all know what Rachel would really want us to be doing." Artie was grinning and slapping Finn's chest. "You got the stuff?"
"Oh I got it." Finn had that dopey grin on his face. Santana could see that even four years and the death of his ex-girlfriend had done little to diminish Finn's awkwardness. "Since I started working here on the weekends, I convinced my manager to let us take over the mic for tonight only. He agreed as long as we sing good songs."
"I don't think that's gonna be a problem." Artie said with a smirk. "I've already got some Michael ready for me."
"Excuse me, but I think we should start with a Céline Dion or a Barbara classic." Tina butted in rather quickly.
"And who's going to sing it? Kurt isn't coming this year." Finn asked.
"Why isn't he coming again? I thought he wrote this date in pen on that calendar of his. He never misses a reunion." Artie pondered.
Santana's eyes slid over to Brittany. The blonde's face was mostly obscured by the beer in her hand. But they made contact with each other. They both knew the reason Kurt wasn't coming. Quinn, too, paused but offered no comment. He still hadn't forgiven Brittany for Rachel's death. Finn set up the mics and got the amplifier going. He settled in behind the house drums and invited Sam to come up on stage to take over one of the guitars. Tina mounted the stage and the lights lowered.
"Not as bad as advertised, right?" Puck had moved into Mercedes' seat.
"It's awful."
"How?" Puck sincerely asked.
"It's just…" Santana looked over the people she used to call friends, call family, and they looked so happy. Even Quinn who seemed out of place in the front of the group where Rachel used to stand was laughing and conversing with Mercedes over something about Mercedes' mother. Santana vaguely remembered a time when Quinn had lived at the Jones' house. Everyone moved naturally and with ease through the bar. "Different. Everyone's moved on. They all have lives. They're all so happy. And…"
Her dark eyes ghosted over Brittany's silhouette at the table next to them. She was talking to Artie about something.
"…we haven't…"
Puck wrapped an arm around Santana and pulled her in close. "None of us has moved on, Tan, but we've been here for each other for the past four years. It's given us a place to heal – grow a scab."
"But…"
"No, before you count yourself out. Let me give you the lowdown on everyone." Puck kindly hushed her protests with a smile. "Mercedes is out in LA still. I'm surprised you two haven't connected out there yet. She's working at an independent label. She's been producing some incredible things, but it's all a little underground. She's waiting for the big hit. It's coming. I've heard some of the musicians she's working with and they're incredible."
"Artie's been writing and working on small time stages across the US. He's been trying to revitalize theatre and productions outside of Broadway and New York. He just landed a big government grant to take his program on the road."
"Finn still works in Burt's shop. They've really built the place up to be one of the biggest auto shops in town. I heard they were opening a new branch not too far away. But on the weekends, he works here because he's in charge of the open mic night."
"Quinn…well you know Quinn…" Puck said with a smirk. Santana rolled her eyes. Puck continued. "Mike is on tour with JT. Tina's all over the place. She hops from hobby to hobby, a bit of an entrepreneur. Sam has been doing social work in Ohio, I think he's in Akron. He's working with underprivileged children to make sure they have clothes and school supplies. Santana-" He paused and gave her a smile. "Santana's been working at one of the largest legal firms in California that represent famous clients and keeps their business hush hush."
Santana started to object, but Puck wasn't done. "Brittany has been running her own private investigative business in New York for quite a few years and was recently pulled into a huge case by the NYPD. And Puckerman…he's got himself a girl and made detective."
Santana felt chagrined. Puck was right. They all had moved on in their own way, but the hurt was still there. She was no different from the rest of them. They were just a little better at hiding it. Instead of giving back to the darker thoughts and feelings associated with Rachel's murder, Santana allowed a smile to grace her lips.
"You know…you didn't finish the rest of Puckerman's bio…"
"What? I wasn't missing anything." He grew indignant. What didn't he mention about his own life? He definitely hit all the important points.
"Oh? How about his recent demotion from the biggest case the NYPD is doing right now? And that he got knocked out by a very tiny man with a camera."
"Hey!" Puck rubbed at the fuzz on his head where hair was just starting to grow back. "I was being nice to you. No need to get vicious."
"I didn't finish." Santana said with a smile. "He also happens to be the best lezbro any gay gal could ask for."
Puck blushed and rubbed the top of his head harder. When he realized Santana's words were visibly affecting him, he straightened out and coughed into his hand. "Tan."
"Yeah?"
"That was really gay." They both started laughing and turned back to the stage. Finn just finished the last of the setup and Tina had taken the mic.
They were drinks in.
A few drinks in.
The kind of in that requires minimal concentration to stay focused on one thing, but created unexpected tingles from a bass line or a string of suggestive words. Artie was finishing up some Michael on the stage to which Mike was throwing up the backup dancing and singing. The bar had been generally pleasant and tolerant of their singing. It was a good thing they were all relatively decent. Mercedes had really brought the house down with some Whitney followed by Rihanna and then the newest Adele song. They almost booed Artie off the stage when they noticed Mercedes was stepping down but Artie won them back over with Billie Jean.
Santana was watching Brittany. The blonde hasn't moved much. She was still seated at the table next to them.
She didn't have to move to talk to her. They were silently communicating during the night. Whenever Finn rejoined the table, Santana didn't even bother to hide the way her eyes would roll. He was still self-righteous. Sam had regressed to doing impersonations and Britt bit her bottom lip and glanced over at Santana to see how Tan felt about them.
Britt mouthed. I can't believe you dated him.
Santana tried hard not to laugh, but mouthed back. It was your fault.
Now, Noah was talking to her about something, but it was hard to concentrate. Santana barely heard a word Puck said.
"I'm going to head over to the bar. Need anything, Tana?" Puck asked to be polite. He knew where Santana's attention remained tethered. She hadn't even been looking at him for the past five minutes of their conversation. Clearly, someone else was enjoying Santana's undivided attention.
Not that he cared. It had been his plan after all.
"No. I'm good." Santana glanced up to see Mike doing the moonwalk and Artie pointing to all the ladies in the audience. They were ooh-ing and aww-ing at the performance. She barely noticed when he left.
"So you wanna elaborate."
"Out of everyone, I think I've missed you the most, Q."
Quinn ignored Santana's attempt to sow misdirection. "Santana."
"What, Quinn?"
"It's not healthy."
"What's not?"
"This game you're playing."
"This isn't a game. Whatever that means."
"Please. Don't flatter yourself, Santana." Quinn leaned back in the chair Puck had emptied. "You were never the queen of subtly, no matter how hard you tried to keep your emotions bottled up. You wear them in your eyes."
"Shut up, Quinn. No one asked you. I don't wear anything anywhere."
"It's in your eyes, Santana. Every emotion you try to contain, every emotion you want to ignore, everything that has to do with Brittany." Quinn's words slid over her old friend with a harsh accurate sting. "The only person you've ever been able to lie to - is yourself."
"Whatever."
"What's going on between you two?" Quinn asked bluntly. She remembered the hospital room and the glances exchanged between her two friends. "Last time I saw you two, I wasn't sure if you were together or you hated each other. You're acting like you're sixteen and dumb again. I half expect Brittany to hop onto Artie's lap when he's done with his set just to get your attention and make you jealous. When's the last time she dressed like that?"
"Shut up, Quinn. It's not like that." Santana repeated. But it was like that. Santana's dark eyes roved over the waitress as she made yet another pass at Brittany's table. It was the third or fourth time in fifteen minutes. It only took the girl one question to get Brittany's smile to surface. Santana wanted to have Brittany's attention. She was counting the seconds between each look, each smile. And this girl could just point out the color of Britt's dress and in an instant she received everything Santana longed for.
Santana's eyes were roving up and down the intruder. She didn't even realize she had been doing it until Quinn smacked her hand on the table. "Ow!"
"Santana. Seriously?" Quinn shook her head in disappointment. "Most people would kill for the opportunity to have even half of what you two had."
"It's not that simple." Santana reiterated the phrase. It was beginning to sound like a broken record even to herself.
"Really? That's the best excuse you can come up with?" Quinn's short temper started to rear. "When has life ever been simple? It's the messiest things that are usually the most rewarding. I thought you learned that a long time ago. Some of us…" Her stern lecture paused and her voice softened. "Some of us can't get messy anymore, some of us can't do anything anymore, but you know…Rachel would have stuck her nose right in the middle of your business and suggested some sappy love song to sing. She probably would have even sung it with you because she knew how important it was to love and be loved. She wouldn't have let an opportunity like this slip away."
Quinn got up and walked away. Santana tried to count the seconds to measure her self-control.
One Lord Tubbington, she counted just like Britt would.
Two Lord Tubbington
Three Lord-
Her dark eyes coasted over the bar chairs and the stage until they were on Brittany's table again. Santana took her time. Her gaze travelled from the legs of the table to the most beautiful and attractive legs Santana had ever had the pleasure of exploring. Her hands tingled with the memories of how her fingers would dance up their lengths. Her eyes skimmed along the hem of Brittany's dress and it wasn't the first time that night that Santana's insides twisted. At the commendation ceremony, she mentioned Britt in a dress and fuck…the blonde didn't disappoint. She didn't know if Brittany had done it on purpose, but Santana believed Britt had dressed up for her. Her dark eyes lifted just a little further up the patterned material of the short dress.
Except this time, the waitress wasn't there, but two azure eyes were staring right back at her. Santana's heart skipped a beat.
They were a few drinks in.
A lot of drinks in.
The kind of in that requires concentration to keep the room from spinning but also offers a sort of lawlessness where anything can be spoken and anything is possible.
"Oh. My. God. Santana. Please. If I have to hear one more of your client names I'm going to roll up on your little law firm and smack some humble back in your ass. Sit down. You haven't heard music till you've heard the group of men I've got tearing up my studio right now. That's right. I said men. I don't have time for little boy groups. And once we get the final touches on these tracks, you're going to see grown women dying to get into their concerts."
"Please, Cedes. You're just jealous cause I work with the big contracts. Don't worry, when your group of boys makes it big, then you can come to me and see if I'll represent you."
"Ha!" Mercedes was cackling. "You'll be begging for my secretary to give you the time of day!"
"Oh please. You wish. I could probably out sing your boy group with half a lung and a cigar."
"Hmpf." Mercedes snorted through her nose. "Is that so? When's the last time you got up and sang in front of someone?"
The question stopped her. Words and laughter stuck in her throat. Santana hadn't been expecting Mercedes' question, though in hind sight, singing was all the reunion had always been about. Rachel organized every year to keep them connected, but mostly so they could sing and pretend they were still eighteen without a care in the world. But Santana had too many cares – too many to just sing away.
Santana vividly remembered the last time she sang. It had been in California, in front of her boss and co-workers. Alcohol had been pumping through her system, kinda like it was now. But she could remember every note and every emotion. She sang for Brittany then.
And the time before that…Santana could only vaguely recall. She barely remembered the song or the lyrics. It was the feeling. Feelings attached to that final performance at the Nymph's Lounge were deep. She remembered looking over the crowd. Every empty, faceless set of eyes staring back at her in the darkness was another body that didn't belong to Brittany. The lights had been blinding and the darkness of the bar had been impenetrable. She had found no solace or comfort on the stage, just terrible anxiety.
Brittany wouldn't be coming.
Santana's smile didn't convey anything she was feeling. She sought out Brittany. The blonde was sipping on yet another beer. Mike was talking to her. She couldn't hear about what. Mercedes followed the brunette's gaze with a judging eyebrow. And even though they couldn't hear each other's conversation, Britt flashed her a secretive smile between whatever Mike was saying.
"Hmm? What? You're done talking a big game now? Just one song. You know she would have wanted you to sing." Mercedes added the last part as almost a whisper. "Don't you think it's time to let that voice out again? I'm sure I'm not the only person here who wants to hear you sing, Tana."
Vocalizing her feelings? It had been years? And when was the last time she had been honest with herself? Quinn was right about a lot of things. Santana had always lied the best when she was lying to herself. Singing? It would mean being truthful and she didn't know if she wanted to know the truth. Santana glanced once more to the table next to her. Unconsciously, a smile touched her lips at the way Brittany was laughing with Mike. It was the small things. The way she wrinkled her nose ever so slightly at whatever he was saying. Her legs crossing and uncrossing beneath the table. The tap-tap of her fingers on the rim of her glass. The way her hips moved to the beat of the music.
The way her blue eyes shifted a half a millimeter to make contact with hers.
She already knew the truth.
"I'm telling you, Britt, you're missing out on an insane opportunity. I've been touring with JT. I can't get you into the tour. I've already tried and they said that you've been out of the game for too long, but-" Mike's enthusiastic business opportunity had been growing with every other word. But Brittany didn't mind. She had been out of dancing for too long to just jump right back where she had left. Listening to Mike talk about the tour and the people he met felt good. It had been a long time. The studio had been left in shambles after the gunfight with Nelson. Britt silently wondered how much it would cost to fix the place up. "-all these people who hang around and who know the people on the tour have got money. Lots of money and they've got kids who want the best of the best. If you could get the studio up and running again, I could send you some serious clients. And…you'd be dancing again."
Britt ground her cigarette into the ash tray. "I just don't think I could do that anymore, Mike. It's been forever. I don't even know the first thing about catering to some rich kids."
"Catering?" Mike snorted. "Just be yourself. Do your thing. You were the best instructor when you could just be you. It would be amazing to stop by New York again and see you at the studio. I miss doing that…"
He was careful with his words now. Everyone knew Brittany's sensitive subjects. But Brittany just smiled. "I know. I miss it too sometimes. But…I just don't know…"
"Well…If you're not doing anything with the space, Britt, I know a guy who would be very interested in purchasing the lot from you. He's been interested for a while. I can send him your way when you get back to New York."
"Sure…do that…" Britt said with a forced smile, but her stomach turned at the thought of selling the studio. She knew that Mike meant well, but it didn't feel good. That building meant more to her than just a business. There were so many memories hidden in every corner and bursting from the cracked mirrors. A lifetime sat in those bricks and mortar. Sure, it was dusty and crumbling, but it still meant something.
Her eyes passed over to Santana's table, but she was no longer there.
Brittany wondered where she could have gone. She was unsure what was happening, but her insides danced every time she found Santana looking at her from the other table. And it was happening often.
That dance…that feeling…that everything…
Intimacy became symbiotic with every look and touch they shared, but Santana refused to give in. Tonight, something felt different. Brittany had known Santana long enough to know their relationship hinged on the other. She had no idea what was happening between them, except it felt right. It felt so real. It made her fingers tingle and her insides jump. It made her want to get up early in the morning. It made her want to throw away every last cigarette in her apartment and to drink a little less.
It made her feel good.
It made everything seem like it was going to be okay and that the last four years had only been a bad dream.
It made her believe that she could open her eyes one morning and she'd wake up in Santana's arms.
It made-
"It's a first in a long time. I would love to welcome to the stage a name that hasn't graced the mics of Lima in four years. The beautiful, lovely, and immeasurably talented – Santana Lopez."
-her heart stop and her nerves excited. It made her remember broken promises and silent vows to never disappoint Santana again.
It made her chest hurt and her eyes lift to the stage.
The haunted look in those dark eyes reminded Brittany of why Santana refused to sing in the car the one time they had driven together and why Brittany had made it so easy for her ex-lover to choose California.
"Noah…" Santana muttered away from the mic, but it still picked up the sincerity, anxiety, and vulnerability that cracked her voice. Brittany bit her bottom lip to hear that half second hesitation from Santana. "Could you…um…back me up here? And the drums…" She asked Finn who nodded. Sam took Puck's hands and assisted him up the stage. He found a stool for the detective to sit on.
Puck mounted the stage and took the guitar from Sam, but not before he leaned in close. "Are you sure?"
Santana nodded and said a little louder. "It's for Rachel, anyway, right? I wouldn't want her being mad at me for not singing at her reunion thing."
She laughed too awkwardly at her own joke, but Puck only nodded and plugged the guitar in.
The microphone jolted to life. The guitar came in easy. Strum. Strum. Strum. Puck put his head down as he found the beat. Santana lifted the microphone to her lips. It felt different. The last time she had performed, the alcohol and her loneliness produced a Brittany to sing to, but Brittany was sitting right here. Right, now. Santana hadn't felt butterflies since high school.
You know it ain't easy
For these thoughts here to leave me
There's no words to describe it
In French or in English
Cause diamonds they fade
And flowers they bloom
And I'm telling you
The bass kicked in from Artie and Finn kicked the drums. And Santana –
- Santana looked right at her. Brittany gripped the edge of the table. Her cigarette dangled loose from her lips. Last time, Santana couldn't see her. Brittany sat in the back and chose to passively watch Santana from the safety of darkness and anonymity. But here, the lights and the seating were impossible for Brittany to fade out, not that she wanted to disappear.
Santana didn't balk.
And Brittany wanted – needed the attention.
These feelings won't go away
They've been knockin' me sideways
They've been knockin' me out, babe
Whenever you come around me
Noah pressed his lips to the mic and offered very soft harmonies.
These feelings won't go away
They've been knockin' me sideways
I keep thinking in a moment
That time will take them away
But these feelings won't go away
The pause felt like four years.
But these feelings won't go away.
Santana was looking directly down from the stage at Brittany. She was grateful for the momentary pause in the song. Brittany's eyes were mesmerizing. Every performance she had ever performed, Britt had been front center. Her smile made every karaoke/open mic night with Rachel bearable. She could feel time unwinding. She knew what the feeling was called. She knew why her body suffered hot and cold flashes whenever Brittany shot her a smile or why her stomach flipped whenever the PI touched her hat during a meeting with Macklin or pushed back a lock of hair.
It was that feeling. It was the one that was so hard.
Maybe she was being a dumb teenager. Every time she thought maybe she'd be able to just be friends with Brittany, she was proven wrong. All the emotions and thoughts Britt stirred were becoming unbearable. Pushing them away had done little to alleviate the ache and tug in her chest every time Brittany came around. Maybe Quinn was right.
Maybe she was sixteen and in love again.
Maybe she had always been sixteen and in love.
You know it ain't easy
For these thoughts here to leave me
There's no words to describe it
In French or in English
Cause diamonds they fade (diamonds they fade)
And flowers they bloom (flowers they bloom)
And I'm telling you
Noah once more added fuller harmonies to the verse. His voice complemented Santana's and helped fill out a song that wasn't a natural voice selection for her.
Santana didn't even hear him.
She could only see Brittany.
These feelings won't go away
They've been knockin' me sideways
They've been knockin' me out, babe
Whenever you come around me
These feelings won't go away
They've been knockin' me sideways
I keep thinking in a moment
That time will take them away
These feelings won't go away
These feelings won't go away
The final verse filled in. Artie, Finn, and Noah all took to the mics on the stage, but Brittany could only hear Santana. She remembered how broken those dark eyes looked over the Nymph's Lounge and how foolish she had been to let Santana walk away.
But diamonds they fade
And flowers they bloom
And I'm telling you
I'm telling you
Diamonds they fade
Flowers they bloom
I'm telling you
I'm telling you
The lights dimmed, flickered, and then returned to brighten the stage. Santana walked down from the stage. She didn't know what she wanted. Her heart was racing and she felt like she had just gone for a run. Her eyes lifted and met with Brittany's uncompromising stare, but her eyes weren't as hard. Hints of sadness, nostalgia, unspoken words, and…Mike forced Brittany to turn back to him.
"Not my style." Mercedes rubbed at Santana's back as she dismounted from the stage. "But you definitely brought some soul out of that song. I've got to get you over to my studio when you're back in Cali. I want you to see what I'm producing. I'd love to have your ear on some of these projects and we could hit the mics ourselves."
"More shots!" Finn produced a tray with clear liquid in every little glass. "I think we're going to have to wrap it up here shortly. My manager can only take so much with the show tunes, the Whitneys, the…" He glanced at Santana. "…sad, and even the Michael."
"What man doesn't love Michael?" Artie indignantly questioned.
"That's okay. I've got a better idea." Mike pushed into the conversation. "Let's do another round here and then go dancing."
They were all moving around the table, lifting drinks, and clinking shots together. Jovial, the group exchanged admiration and complements on songs. Santana excused herself from the table to get another drink at the bar. Too late she realized Brittany had also stood up from her table. Santana made an awkward attempt to get out of her way, but the PI stood there with her crooked smile.
Santana worked her way around the chairs, but Brittany beat her to it. The blonde pulled out the chair blocking Santana's escape to the bar with ease.
"Thanks." She kept her head down and tried to work around the last obstacle – Brittany.
"Santana…" Brittany pushed back some hair from her face. Santana instantly thought of the yellow beanie shoved into the bottom of her suitcase. "I never thought I'd ever get the chance to hear you sing again. It was beautiful. Even better than I remember."
Santana looked Brittany straight in the eyes. "You probably can't even remember the last time I sang."
"I do." Brittany took her time leaning back against the chair positioned behind her. The alcohol made her feel bold and the guilt made her terrible. She needed support. She needed to admit how she fucked up really bad. The smoke from her recently lit cigarette wrapped around them. Santana felt an urge to stamp it out in the nearest ash tray. "At the Lounge. It was that song…it went like-" Brittany hummed a few measures and softly sang the lyrics. "-We're losing ground with every passing day. We're not okay." Brittany's steel blue eyes softened. They melted and begged for forgiveness and understanding. Hesitant, "That song…"
The bar was spinning. How could she know the song? Santana heart was hammering as Brittany softly sang lyrics to a song she could no longer bare to hear. Her head was reeling. Brittany had been there? Brittany had been there. Fuck. She had been there. How could she have been there? Santana couldn't breathe.
Brittany continued as if Santana needed clarification. "It was the night before you left…"
Words stuck and scratched in her throat as she struggled to grasp what Brittany was confessing. Her voice cracked. "I know what night it was."
Perhaps it was her recent exposure to Brittany's reckless self-assuredness, but Santana almost didn't recognize the uncertainty in Brittany pose. She wanted to be mad. She wanted to yell and attack her, but Santana couldn't move. She was just stunned. "You were there?"
Slowly, Brittany nodded just once – up and down.
"Why didn't you tell me?" It was incomprehensible.
There were a thousand things Brittany could say. She had been justifying her decision for years, but within the month or so of being with Santana all of her excuses were insufficient. It came down to one conclusion Brittany had been wrestling with since Santana's return. She should have never let Santana go. "Does it matter now? Like you said…we can't change the past."
"Hey!" Mike came in between them and wrapped his arms around both of their shoulders. "We're getting ready to go. There's a club at a hotel a few blocks away that has half decent music. You guys are coming right?"
Does it matter now?
"Of course we're going, Mike. We still need to dance." Britt turned in his arms and then fell perfectly into a dip. Blonde hair spilled to the floor before he lifted her up and spun her around.
They disconnected and Mike passed them each another shot to do with him.
Santana knocked hers back, but didn't hear a word Mike said.
Does it matter now?
Brittany noticed the extra attention from Santana. She leaned over the chair next to them. Softly, she whispered. "You're still a much better dance partner."
And just like that, Santana knew the answer.
No. It didn't matter. Because whatever she was feeling right now, couldn't be stopped or slowed. Santana was falling. It was a freefall down. And she knew better than to try to hold onto something. It would only delay the inevitable.
Nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing, not even knowing Brittany had heard her sing all those years ago could stop the way those last words filled Santana with sweet anxiety and sensations. Britt wanted to dance with her. She was inviting her closer. She wanted to share that feeling too.
They were a lot of drinks in.
They were a sloppy amount of drinks in.
The club Mike suggested happened to be attached to the same hotel Santana was staying at for the night. But she didn't have a lot of time to reflect on the irony. They were on shot number "who-knows" because Santana really didn't know. She just kept drinking whatever Noah or Mike or Mercedes or Artie would put in her hand.
Spinning.
Blurry.
She didn't have full control over her motor functions or any functions. Everything tingled and her skin vibrated to the deep beat of the bass line. Even worse, Santana had lost all ability to think straight. Instinctively, her eyes always seemed to find the place where Brittany was dancing. Even though she wasn't dancing like she had that night at Reckloose – dangerous, sexual, and predatory – it was still impossible to turn away from her. Her arms were up in the air and her blonde hair was loose like her hips. She was two stepping with Mike. Their bodies rubbing up and down each other as friends, but they were still the best dancers on the floor. The DJ had no problem spinning more dance mixes just to watch them.
Santana's eyes lingered on Britt's backside then drew up the dancer's shoulders where the cuts in the dress revealed just how strong Brittany was.
She had been there. Brittany had heard her sing and she thought she still sounded beautiful. Santana's lips curved over her glass as she watched Brittany dancing.
Does it matter now?
How hard was it to let go of the past? Honestly, Santana didn't know or care. She just knew how she felt in this moment.
The DJ switched tracks and Mike wiped at his brow from sweat, but was absolutely beaming. Santana could almost imagine the conversation taking place. It would be about how Britt still had the moves and she could out dance anyone in his tour group.
And he would be right.
Santana's eyes followed down Brittany's shoulder blades along the biceps in her arms down the sides of her torso. She remembered a time when Brittany danced only for her in the club. The lights were spinning and hitting off her exposed neckline.
"Hey, sexy…" Puck slurred into her ear. His hands wrapped around her waist from behind and pulled her back.
Santana rolled her eyes, but turned around in his arms. "You're still a terrible dancer." She glanced down. "And where are your crutches?"
"I'm doing alright…" He winked at her.
Groaning, she turned to Quinn. "You wanna take over with Romeo, Q?"
"Absolutely not." The blonde started to say, but Puck's arms were already around her neck. Quinn threw Santana a death glare, but eventually softened to Puck's morbid humor regarding his injured leg. Sometimes Puck still had the ability to spit game. Santana almost wanted to warn him to not bring up the subject of his new girlfriend, but it was too late. She could hear Quinn grilling him already.
Oops.
A song new started to play.
When my baby is a mess
My baby is a dancing queen
Does it matter now? Santana couldn't listen to the question in her head any longer. She couldn't stand the limbo she had been living in since her return to New York. She didn't want to be a dumb teenager anymore.
She didn't want to have to remember a life she once lived or the way things were.
And…
Deep down, she knew, she didn't want to be alone. And life without Brittany was a life spent alone.
Brittany was dancing by herself in the center of the chaos. Her hair was tussled from dancing with Mike and the heat of the club. Normally her eyes would be electric by now. They would light up the floor and stare down anyone who dared to make eye contact with her. Her energy was untamable when she got going. But they were closed and didn't connect with anything around her. Santana's smile twisted as she watched Brittany's body moving so naturally to the beat. She slowed at all the right places and rode the measured beats with her hips.
Maybe it was the alcohol or everything that had been happening the past few weeks.
She wanted to feel that electricity. She wanted to be Brittany's conduit. She wanted Brittany's hands, her lips, her hips, her voice whispering in her ear.
She wanted everything.
When my baby wears a dress
It's like she's not even a human being
Under strands of messy blonde hair, blue eyes peered to Santana through the throng of bodies. Santana placed her drink down on the counter and made her way past couples bumping and grinding, singles trying to dance by themselves, and the occasional creeper.
Everything.
Her hands reached out without hesitation. She brushed back blonde hair from behind. Britt craned her neck to the left and rolled her ass back into Santana's front. The club swirled in surreal motion as Santana's other hand wrapped around Brittany's waist to help facilitate Brittany's small, but unsubtle thrusts back and forth. Santana groaned as that ass pressed back and then she held her body still for a second. With delicious patience, she grinded back right into Santana's body.
"What are you doing?" Britt leaned back and purred right into Santana's ear. The brunette had worked her way until her chin rest on Brittany's shoulder. Their bodies were rocking in the perfect position where they could both talk into each other's ears.
Nobody else
Nobody else
Nobody else
Has you down, but me
"Shhh." Santana felt daring. Her mouth pressed against the back of Brittany's ear. This is what she wanted. Fuck. She wanted Brittany so bad. A shudder transferred down Brittany's back through Santana's body.
"What about-" Brittany started to ask, giving Santana a way out even if her body was moving of its own accord to close the gap between them.
"You're right. It doesn't matter now. None of that matters."
Brittany didn't need Santana to explain. She knew what Santana meant. This was now.
I behold the beauty
But the beauty got a hold of me
With all the other boys in the running
Never thought this could happen at twenty
The taller blonde finally turned around and faced Santana. This time Santana could feel it. It was there. Electric blue eyes shot through the dimness of the club. Every inch of her skin tingled under Brittany's intense gaze. Confident hands grasped either side of her body and pulled her closer and closer. Their hips bumped and Santana spread her legs as Brittany's knee slid between them. Santana glanced up. Her mouth was parched. Brittany's body insatiable. She couldn't keep her eyes away from her.
Santana could feel every beat of Brittany's heart as their chests pressed together. It was louder than the bass from the song. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck. It was the mirror opposite of their dance from the commendation ceremony. Yet both affected her the same way.
It was that feeling and she couldn't deny it. She couldn't deny it when Brittany had guided them around the ballroom floor and she couldn't deny it now when all she wanted was for Brittany to consume every part of her.
They looked straight at each other and Santana felt such longing.
"I missed you, Britt. Fuck. I've missed you so much."
"I'm here now." Her voice was unshakably steady and Brittany's fingers tightened around her body.
When my baby is a mess
My baby is a dancing queen
When my baby wears a dress
It's like she's not even a human being
Brittany was the only person that made her feel like this.
Puck caught sight of them from his vantage point in the club and smiled to himself.
Best wingwoman ever.
Nobody else
Nobody else
Nobody else
Has you down, but me
Their bodies pulsed back and forth. The club was packed, but Santana could only feel Brittany. It wasn't the heat of the club or the thumping bass that made her body flush and her stomach flutter. It was Brittany. The world broke away when they were together.
Santana closed her eyes and leaned forward.
She didn't know why she had fought this feeling for so long. This is where she belonged. She had been foolish to deny it. Because...
She was sixteen and she was in love.
Songs:
Sideways- Citizen Cope
Lisa Baby- WALK THE MOON
